


Tony Lokison

by Avengers_IronMan



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Guilt, Jarvis is a Wolf, Kid Tony, Kidnapping, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki adopts Tony, Loneliness, M/M, Mindwiping, Odin is a Good Parent, Thor Feels, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengers_IronMan/pseuds/Avengers_IronMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a routine visit to Earth, Loki finds an abused child genius just as starved for attention as he is. Throwing all caution to the wind, the trickster god takes the young protege back to raise as his own son. Problems erupt, however, and Loki learns just how hard it is to raise a would-be mortal in an immortal world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Mortals are such pathetic beings.

Once again, Loki found himself rounding questions of humanity through his skull. Specifically, why he still aspired to find any within these lowly pests. The god growled as he was once again shuffled into a ‘store of thrift’ and shoved into an unoccupied corner by the cockroaches of Midgard. Just another pointless search for a remarkable gift. On this visit, he found himself craving what he did not have. Why in the nine he thought he would find it on this loathsome planet, let alone in the most revolting interurban he’d ever laid eyes on. Forcing himself back into the street past the crowds, he glanced around at the surrounding buildings, all-pushing towards the sky. Grimaces covered the faces of the simpletons around him, each uttering a minor curse towards him for simply being alive. Truly this species of insect is completely hopeless.

Loki turned his head skyward, about to call on Heimdall, when a passing paper smacked across his face. He growled in frustration glaring at the colored ink that dare interfere with his movements. STARK AT IT AGAIN! Was splashed across the front in bright crimson. Scanning thoroughly through the paragraphs underneath, Loki found what he was looking for. This man, this Howard Stark, was a brilliant inventor, an enervator among common peasants. The mischief prince smirked, perhaps there was still hope for these pitiful maggots, and made his way off towards a dark alley, where he could teleport himself without stirring up the crowd.

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When he first arrived at Stark mansion, Loki felt a thrill; it certainly looked like a place worthy of a king. On further examination, however, the prince found it to be lacking. Unlike the walls of the palace, this building felt entirely unlived in, causing the trickster to question himself. Was it possible that they simply weren’t home? It was a sound idea, although that shouldn’t have altered his magic in anyway, since he had locked on Howard Stark’s aura, rather than a specific location. Slinking quietly through the desolate hallways, the uncertainty plagued heavily on his thoughts. Details flew past his subconscious, silencing any possibility. Howard Stark was in this house, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, two others as well. Then Loki heard it, shifting behind the door down the hall. He walked steadfast in its direction, stopping just before opening. Something felt off, wrong to the god. He didn’t feel intelligence in the atmosphere, only pain and heartbreak.

Pushing his way in, Loki froze at the so-called visionary in front of him. The man didn’t appear very intelligent to the mischief god, and based on the bottles cluttered around his table, he didn’t act smart either. Loki stared at this sad excuse of a human, passed out in a drunken haze with marked out maps littering around his elbows. This is the best this realm has to offer? This? Shaking his head, Loki turned to make his way out. He would just have to tell father that Midgard had nothing remarkable to be found.

As he fisted the doorknob, however, a little voice stopped him, “D-Daddy? Can I talk to you?”

The handle shook under his hand, and Loki released his grip, cloaking himself at the same moment. With a swing, the door opened revealing a small brown haired child in star and stripe pajamas. This time, Loki felt it clouding the air. Brilliance, creativity, imagination, all radiating from this sad-eyed little boy. Loki felt a shiver run down his back, a beautiful mind born in a forsaken world, where had he heard that before? With his stomach unclenching, Loki came to realize that this was what he was waiting for. Someone, or something with a mind rivaled solely by his own. Another brain itching for ever piece of knowledge available to it. And he’d found the mind on Midgard, a precious rose among the rotting weeds. 

Blinking, the trickster found himself staring at the child, now standing next to his inebriated father. Tentatively lifting his tiny hand, the boy shook the man’s shoulder. Crazed eyes snapped open in a daze, searching back and forth, before finally landing on the genius child. Howard Stark glared at the boy with a mighty hatred, his continued slumber now forgotten. 

“Anthony, what have I told you about coming in here when I’m working. Get out. Now.” He growled furiously, blatant loathing coating every word.

Anthony shook slightly under his fathers gaze, but held his chin up in slight defiance, “I-I need to s-show you something, daddy. I-I made it myself.”

Out of the pocket of his onesie, the genius child produced out a small green board. Along the coating, there appeared to be separate lines leading down and around the framework. While the god didn’t particularly know what it was, he still found it quite fascinating. The man barely even glanced at it, “I don’t have time for this. Maria! The boy’s in here again, distracting me from my work. Take care of it.”

Another, more feminine, voice called back, “I’m going to be late for the gala, Howard, I can’t skip this one. He’s your son, take him to his room.”

Anthony remained persistent, “Look, it’s a circuit board, just like y-you make. I-I made it m-myself. Well… Obie helped tweak it a little… B-But I did the programming alone and-and,” Howard clamped his hands down on the small rectangle, and brought it up in front of his nose with a critical eye. Anthony smiled happily at the attention, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Elation coated the boys face, only to fall when the man dropped his creation in a basket next to the desk with a definite ‘plop’. Howard met his sons teary gaze with one of his own, tired and irritable.

“Terrible, again. God, why can’t you just do the simplest of things right? It shouldn’t be this difficult for a genius. Do you want to keep disgracing your family, Anthony? Because right now, I am so disappointed in you that it hurts to call you my son. Go to your room, before you give me another reason to disown you.” Howard turned to his maps, missing his sons reaction.

Anthony wiped fervently at his eyes, refusing to let a single tear slip past his defenses. Glancing back once, only to see his father ignoring him, the boy rushed out of the room as fast as his little feet could carry him. Loki felt a pull to follow the child, but first stepped towards the bin that held his device. It had to have some sort of non-monetary value; otherwise the boy wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to the disapproval. If it could possibly cheer the boy up, then it was definitely worth having. A creak alerted him to the fact that he had been very well caught, a gasp sealing the fact.

“Who’s there? I know you in here, come out and face me like a man!” Howard stood, his eye scanning his surroundings for an intruder. Seeing as he’d already been found out, Loki revealed himself to the human.

He smirked at the man’s gaping mouth, finding it much to amusing. Oh yes, he would have fun with this man.

“W-Who are you? Never mind, I’m calling the cops.” He reached forward cupping the telephones arch tightly, before yanking his fingers back when the smooth surface shifted in to rough scales and a hiss followed his hand back. With wide, terrified pupils, Howard locked onto the trickster’s eyes. Fearful brown on infuriated emerald. 

“I am Loki, god of mischief, Prince of Asgard, and you, Howard Stark,” Loki smirked “Have invoked my wrath.”

Howard began shaking, quaking in unhindered terror. The trickster found himself smiling wider at the man’s horror, even chuckling darkly when the man began spewing undecipherable apologies.

“Silence, foolish mortal, do not anger me further. I have come to deliver swift justice upon the worst filth in the nine realms, and here I have found you, worthless wretch,” Loki lifted the device from the garbage, “and your son.”

Pride for now overlooked, Howard fell to his knees, “Please, kill me, but leave my boy out of this. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, I’m the inventor of death, but don’t hurt my son, please, not my little Tony.” He was practically slobbering over himself by now, face bowed in both fear and resignation.

Loki sighed, “Alright, Tony will be fine,” Howard glanced up hopefully, “with me.”

The god vanished from sight, reappearing seconds later in a completely different room. Where as the office had bland whitewash walls, this room practically oozed color. Though, the more Loki looked, the main scheme was red, white, and blue. A larger poster hung by a nail above Tony’s bed, demanding the viewer buy something called a ‘war bond’ from a man in a ridiculous red, white and… oh. Interesting. The dresser and floor were covered in comic books, action figures, and other memorabilia; all based off someone proclaimed the ‘Captain of the America’s’. The child even had a (clearly) homemade costume, complete with circular shield emblazoned with a star. So the boy was clearly a fan of whoever the strange pointing man on the poster happened to be. Speaking of the little boy, where was he? 

Swiftly turning his heels, Loki caught sight of a small quivering ball in the corner. Tony curled in on himself, cuddling a figure of the poster-man close to his chest. Closer inspection illuminated that while Tony took a protective cover over the toy, it was clear that he used it as a lifeline. The trickster god felt a pang of pity, remembering when he was in a similar situation with Thor and his friends.

Approaching like one would an injured animal, Loki spoke quietly, “Are you the son of Stark?”

The boy looked up with puffy, red eyes, “I-I don’t know… Who are you? If you’re a k-kidnapper, then y-your out of luck. Howard doesn’t p-pay ransoms.”

“I am not here to kidnap you, Anthony Stark,” Loki noted the visible flinch at his full name, “Tony. Rather I am here to offer you a proposition.”

Tony stilled in his weeping, large brown eyes gazing distrustfully at the god, “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

The god blinked, not expecting the turn of demeanor from the boy, “I am Loki-“

“The god of mischief? No way.” Tony exclaimed, disbelief drenched in sarcasm dripping in his tone. Loki once again found himself amazed by the intellect of such a small child. Most grown Midgardians didn’t know about the Aesir, so it came as somewhat of a surprise that one, who couldn’t have been more than five or six, by this realms years, could know of them. This one was worthy, Loki was sure of that. Oh, yes; the All-Father will be proud of his choice.

“Aye, would you like me to show you, little one?” With a nod of his head, the god allowed his magic to coat the young boy, green smoke dancing across his torso and down his legs, before finally pulling back into Loki. A wide grin played at his lips, as he pointed Tony to a mirror. A high pitch squeal covers the room, and Loki grins slyly at the child.

“You turned me into a girl?” Tony screamed in utter dismay.

The mischievous prince allowed an somewhat evil sneer to play on his lips, “Would you have believed me if I simply pulled a rabbit out of a hat? I think not.”

“You still didn’t have to turn me into a girl!” The shriek was followed by the sound of footsteps outside the room, and Loki knew his time was up. With a twist of his wrist, Tony returned to male-hood, eliciting another, though slightly deeper, squeal from the protege.

“That is so cool! Can I do that? Can you teach me? Oh my god! I really am talking to you! This is the most amazing moment of my life-!” A hand clamped over the excited boy, cutting off his jabbering rant.

Looking Tony directly in the eyes, Loki offered his peace; “I wish to take you away from here, Tony. I recognize that the life you have been shoveled into is displeasing to a genius such as yourself, and plan to take you somewhere you’ll never have to experience disappointment ever again.” Loki finished with a rise, reaching out a hand in invitation but offering no further objectives, stilling any further movements. Tony had a choice, and Loki didn’t plan on taking that away from the genius either.

Arms still clutching tightly to the plaything, Tony glanced back and forth between the offered appendage and Loki’s electric eyes. Contemplations ran over the boy’s face, and while the tension had eased slightly, Tony still looked rather distrustful of the god. Which, of course, was completely natural; Loki was the god of mischief and lies, after all. The footfalls outside the door turn erratic and grow louder with each step, the person (most likely Howard) obviously overhearing their voices.

Gazing down at the toy, Tony whispered, “Never, ever?”

With a soft smile playing on his lips, Loki responded.

“Never, ever.”

Pounding erupted the steady silence, frantic calls belched from a frantic father. Tony stared at the door, and for a moment Loki swore he would go open it. Instead, the protégé reached out and clasped his tiny hand in Loki’s much larger one. Without missing a beat, the trickster called out to Heimdall to beam them home.


	2. Chapter 1: My Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Odin is fairly kind, Loki is ecstatic, and Thor is extremely confused.

Visitors from other realms frequented Asgard constantly, what with the trade of goods and weapons. All over the land, species roamed from place to place, hoping around like jackrabbits. Still, it came as a shock to Thor when his brother wandered into the palace with a mortal. Stunned silence met the trickster, as he sauntered past his brother right up to the throne in the center of the chamber. He smoothly eased to his knees in a graceful manner, ordering the child to do the same.

When the boy appeared cautious, Loki pulled the boy close and whispered something soothing into his ear. Assured, the boy sank into the floor, keeping his head down. If not for the slight tremble of the child’s shoulders, the thunder prince could well assume that his brother had put the mortal under a sleep spell. Not that Loki would ever do something so rash to a child, but he still had his reservations…

“Loki,” The All-Father commanded from his throne, voices ringing through the surrounding area, “Why have you brought a Midgardian into my castle?”

The god in question simply gazed up at his Highness, not even a slight glimpse of fear on his person. Bravery was one of the many remarkable attributes of the mischief prince, though very few truly understood just how much so Loki was. Even the Warriors Three, would laugh if brought up the immense courage the god could conjure within himself. One look at the resolute sureness shining brilliantly in the trickster’s eye, and Thor knew he would follow Loki in his venture anywhere.

On the other hand, Thor was also curious as to why this had anything to do with the shivering, terrified, mortal child. Glancing at the quaking mess of a child, the thunder god evaluated the boy from a far. A messy mop of brown locks, tan skin, and fine pressed clothes glared hotly back. Obviously from a well endowed family, and yet… Thor caught sight of something clutched tightly within the boys lithe arms. A toy. A small, insignificant bauble. Strange.

Loki smirked up at their father, “Odin, glorious day, is it not?”

“Do not test me today, boy. Answer the question.” The All-Father growled viciously. 

Obviously having realized that he was on the elder’s last nerves, the mischief-maker cleared his throat, relieving a knot caught in it. Raising from his sore knees, Loki waved dramatically towards the boy.

“This,” Loki began excitedly, “is Anthony Howardson Stark, a genius mind wrapped in a child’s body. A true visionary, and at the wee age of 5 Midgardian years.”

Hearing this, Odin leaned forward on his throne, interest suddenly overtaking his stoic features. With a wave of his large palm, Loki breathed out a relieved sigh.

“I have saved him from a most likely difficult life,” Loki began. Using his hands to express his concerns, “taken him from those who would wish to torment him-“

“You stole this child away from his guardians?” Exclaimed a voice from the crowd (Fandral, Thor found out later).

“I offered him a way out,” the prince hissed back, “and he accepted.”

Odin moved his un-patched eye to lock on the child, who continued to stay fascinated by the lacerated laces of his shoes, “Anthony,” looking up, large brown eyes blinked repeatedly; frightened of the man, “Is this true? Did you come by your own consent?”

With a side-look at Loki, Anthony peered back at Odin. He nodded his small head once, before his gaze shifted down again. Poor boy must be terrified, thought Thor, this must be horrifying for such a small lad. Shaking his head, the blonde prince dropped his chin. He started tracing the marble lines, pointedly ignoring the conversation happening in front of him. 

Thundering pounding snapped Thor back, eyeing pointedly, as the Great King stepped down to the commoner. Sudden protectiveness shot through the prince, urging him to stand up for the traumatized boy, Anthony. When he went to step forward, he found his feet stuck to the floor. He tried again, and again. It was no use, his soles just refused to shift more than an inch. 

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Loki glared up at his father, refusing to lose eye contact even as he moved fervently around them. He could practically feel the judging pupils roving over himself and Tony. More or less of the audience mimicked the facial expressions his Highness made, all fake emotions and opinions. And they called him the god of lies…

A pair of bright blue orbs caught the trickster’s eye, and he finally relented in his onslaught battle with his father’s pupils. Not losing or giving up, simply allowing the old man to think he’d vested him. Meeting his eyes, his brother wore a grim expression. There was something else there too; was that sympathy? Worry? Whatever for? Reading his facial confusion, Thor darted his eye to the boy, and back again to Loki. The trickster glanced at his charge, to find the genius closing in on himself in fright.

On reaction alone, Loki placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Relief suddenly eased over the young genius, pushing into Loki’s comforting palm. Outrage broke out from the surrounding brutes, lashing out at the show of true weakness. Loki could only hope that the slandering pigs wouldn’t put a dent in the All-Father’s decision.

Stealing a quick look towards the king, the trickster found himself in a state of shock. With the gold interior light shining down, the shadows and lines of his fathers face almost gave off a sense of… compassion for the genius child. But that would be impossible, illogical. The All-Father would never show such emotion, such weakness.

“Loki,” His voice rang like a bell, resonating past the hordes of mindless drones, “Is this really what you wish? A child is a large responsibility, my son.”

Without missing a beat, the trickster answered, “Aye, it is.”

Understanding seemed to pass between father and son, and Loki froze in realization that this was the first time they had a moment such as this. It was… emphatic to say the least.

The All-Father nodded his consent, before speaking to the crowd, “The boy has been granted this, that he shall grow among us. When he comes of age, he shall begin eating the apples of Idunn. Loki Odinson,” Sharp green flashed at the mention of his name, “You shall raise him up, and guide him in our ways.”

Hushed whispers created an ambience under the great voice of the Almighty Odin. No arguments louder than a mere growl here and there reached Loki’s ears, no one wished to defy his majesty.

“I hope you know what you have to do now,” Oh… he had forgotten this part, “We can’t have the boy wondering where his birth makers are.”

This would be difficult to do to one so young, but it was a necessity. Loki reached down and gestured for Tony to stand as well.

“I know. Thank you, father.”

Turning on his heel, Loki made his way through the legion of glaring miscreants. He didn’t even need to turn to know that Tony was following, lingering threats under breath following a short break after him. A small fist worked its way into his, unknowingly easing the tricksters mind.

His child… His son. He rather liked that term. His child. His charge. His toddler, shook with tremors, fear wracking inside his tiny body. And yet… the boy, his boy flashed a smile and continued with his head held high. 

Pride swelled in his stomach, and Loki had to force his mouth to remain straight. When they finally made it past the hateful glares, Loki turned right and headed straight for his rooms. 

New clothing would need to be sewn, and sizing taken. If his son reacted as badly as himself and Thor to the needles entering so close to his skin, then amusing times we’re sure to ensue. Pleased at the thought of maids and knitters running around in panic, his thoughts suddenly drew back to the infuriated peasants.

A dark look crossed the mischief prince’s features. Those worthless swine would not dare speak so crudely to his son in the future, Loki would make sure of that. All the empty promises for vengeance on his head, the trickster would doubly return with a wrath unknown to even the gods. If they were (highly doubtful) wise, they would leave his son intact and leave well enough alone.

Loki could have smacked himself, it hadn’t even been a single day, and yet he already had a protective urge for the boy. His son. A smile broke out of his cool demeanor when he felt a little pull on the clenched fist. 

“What is wrong, little one?” A small spike of pain shot through his chest at the thought that perhaps the boy was missing his parents.

Tony stared out a window, a very distressed expression weary on his feature, “You’re not going to make me wear a dress, are you?”

Loki blinked, “I apologize, what do you mean?”

When Tony finally looked at the trickster, a deep fear remained laced in his large brown orbs, “All the men in that room were wearing dresses. You’re not going to make me wear one, right?”

A moment passed, before Loki collapsed in on himself and gave a full-belly laugh. My, what an amusing one.

“You mean robes. And no, not unless you wish it, my son.”

Freezing, it occurred to Loki what he had let slipped. Luckily, either Tony didn’t hear Loki, or he didn’t care. Oh how the trickster hoped it was the latter option. 

Shouts reverberated down the hall they had just stepped out of; magic detecting a bulky form coming closer and closer. Loki stepped in front of Tony protectively, magic turning to static in the heavy air. If any of those peasant mongrels thought that they had a chance to end the happiness the prince had newly gained, they had another thing coming. Lashing out heavily on the solid form headed straight into him, green light exploded into heavy muscle, and thick bone.

No sound reached Loki’s ears, which he found odd. With that much force behind his attack, and the size of the man, Loki would have expected a resounding boom. Peeking over the wall his back was lying against, Loki released a large sigh of relief. 

“Loki, brother!” Of course it was his brother, no other god would be that resilient to the tricksters magic.

“Yes, Thor?” Loki asked with a somewhat bored expression. Not that he didn’t love talking to his brother, quite the opposite in fact. Thor was one of the only gods in Asgard that Loki favored. Though right now the trickster just wanted to be finished with the manual labor that came with making Tony officially his child.

The thunder prince sighed, “How is the boy? He appeared quite frightened in the eye of Odin.”

Loki was about to answer, but a small, yet infuriated, young voice spoke out from behind his leg, “I wasn’t scared, it was cold in there is all.” Tony insisted, eyeing Thor irritably. 

A deep rumbling escaped the god’s chest, “Trust me, little one, larger men have relieved their bowels, when put in a similar situation as you were. You will make a fine warrior, Sir Anthony.” A large smile split the genius’s face in half.

Loki felt a spark of jealousy pool deep in his gut. Once again, the beloved son of Odin was showing his superiority in the face of the forgotten younger brother. No. Loki thought angrily, not with this child, not in front of my son.

Forcing a grin to spread, the trickster bended down to Tony’s level, “Son, this is Thor. He is my brother, your uncle,” He drew closer to the child’s ear and began whispering, “Feel free to ignore anything he says, as he has the tendency to sound like a raging moron.”

Loud guffaws shook the boy to his core, mischief gleaming in his hazelnut eyes. Thor stood baffled by the child’s utter glee. He hadn’t thought his name was that funny…

“Well, if you’ll pardon us, brother. We must be on our way.”

Again, they began the hike back to Loki’s bedchambers, the trickster knowing full well that Thor was following close after. The blonde god resembled a puppy in so many ways, that Loki sometimes forgot his brother wasn’t part canine himself. “Do you need anything else, brother.”

The heavy footsteps stuttered in their continuous loop, the blonde obviously assuming that Loki’s trained ears couldn’t hear him. Idiot.

“I wish to accompany my brother and new nephew, is there an issue with this?” He refrained from saying littlest, knowing the unease Loki felt and could possibly turn back around on him.

“I suppose not.”

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Finally, finally, they made it through the winding tunnels that make up the enchanted castles. It wouldn’t have taken nearly as long, if Tony hadn’t stopped to gawk at every random piece of technology and magical tool. While it was tedious to say the least, Loki couldn’t help the spring of joy he felt at explaining the different concepts to his charge. It made him feel warm to have a boy with a thirst of knowledge to teach all the marvelous studies to.

They walked through the large decorated doors, Loki sighing in extreme relief. In the last few weeks he had spent so much time trying to find that one creature worthy of his teaching, his knowledge. While he doesn’t regret finding Tony, he dearly missed his home.

“Welcome to your new home, Tony. You should already have some fitting linens in your quarters, though we will still need to have you fitted into some dressings resembling your new status. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” Tony took off running in the direction he’d pointed, excitement expressed openly on his face.

Loki turned back to where Thor had stopped right in front of the door. The thunder prince wore a cheeky grin, enjoying the sight of his brother being so tender.

“I cannot wait to see your facial features, when the boy turns 500 and begins to learn his talent.” Full-bellied laughter left Thor clenching his stomach, hoping to suppress his need for breath. 

While Loki wanted to argue that, no, there would be absolutely nothing different from his normal posterity, the fact remained that Thor was possibly right. If Loki were acting coy about this right now, he would never last. Instead, he smirked at his brother, and nodded his head. 

While he would embrace the day that Tony could begin honing his skills, he was also glad they’d be a ways off. Knowing the fact that Tony would long to return to that dreaded planet spiked rage inside him. No matter, he would find a reason to keep Tony on Asgard with him, away from the selfish vermin that make up Midgard. This, he promised deep within himself, for the sake of his new family.

Tony chose this moment to come back into the room, squealing with childlike glee. He still clutched the red, white and blue figure to his chest, but had changed into a crimson tunic, and black leather. Loki gestured for his son to come to him. When the boy neared, the trickster dropped to his knees in front of his son, grabbing his shoulders in his hands.

“Tony, what I’m about to do is very vital to you being allowed to remain here. Do you understand? I need to know that you want this. This spell has to be voluntary; I cannot force you into it. Can you trust me?” Stupid question, Loki thinks, asking someone to trust the god of lies.

A moment passes, before Tony reluctantly nods his head.

“Are you positive? There is no going back.”

A nod.

“Alright.”

Placing his palms on the boy’s forehead, Loki allowed his magic to dance from his fingers into the boy’s skull. He began chanting in the ancient languages, closing his eyes and yet seeing. He felt himself being pulled into Tony’s thoughts, pushing straight forwards to where the boy’s memories were stored. When he felt the child start to tremble against him, Loki called out to his brother.

“Thor, stop playing dead and hold him still!” He shouted out, angered that his bone-headed brother had not come to help.

When he felt a pair of arms slide between the recesses of their bodies, Loki began his incantations again. Soon enough, he felt the telltale whirr of his magic, shifting backwards into his own body. It was done. Tony was his. Forever.

Even though he shouldn’t feel worried, Loki still flinched when he saw Tony was not conscious. He felt the wear on his bones from the excessive use of his magic reserves.

“Thor, can you carry Tony to my bed chambers,” Thor smirked, “Oh don’t give me that look, you know as well as I that he won’t want to wake up alone.” Thor stood up, cradling the boy’s head gently. As they made their way out, no one paid any notice to the action figure lying sideways, abandoned on the cold, hard floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading, I should have the next chapter up later today. Thank you all who read, commented, and/or gave a kudos, you give me inspiration to write.


	3. Chapter 2: Everyone Has Nightmares, Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a nightmare (or is it?), and Tony shows him his very special present.

_**He’s alone, the hollow ache in his stomach tells him so. While he doesn’t recognize his surrounding immediately, he knows the rough terrain scratching his chilled feet. Jotunheimr.** _

_**Standing on wobbly weakened legs, Loki blinks away the ice crystals forming in his vision. After a quick injury check, he tries to remember why he was in this forsaken realm in the first place. How did he even get here? A soft whimper alerted him to the fact that he was not nearly as alone as he’s originally thought. Odd… Usually his magic was good at warning him to these things.** _

_**He whipped around, searching his surrounding area for any evident threats. While frost giants may have strength and height on their side, Loki had his magic and wits. No doubt, he’d be able to, at the vary least, put up a bloody good fight.** _

_**Instead, he saw dark shadows huddled in a circle, away from the icy breath that took the place of the wind. Loki found himself wandering towards them, though not by his own consent. He shifted, hoping to break whatever connection linked him to these creatures. No such luck, his body just formed back into the tie. Moving forward, as though natural, he glared at the creatures that narrowly stared back at him. This was humiliating, being watched by such ruthless savages!** _

_**It was by this point that the trickster finally noticed that something felt off. The ruffians were not simply standing in a circle in the icy debris, but were actually protecting something inside the halo. Whatever was in the center was releasing soft whimpers of pain, occasionally breaking out into full sobs. Drawing close his eyebrows, Loki found himself pitying the poor creature, the fate that had been bestowed upon it.** _

_**Break back winds interrupted Loki’s train of thought, and he found himself quivering against the onslaught. Without meaning to, he stepped closer to the group of hooligans.** _

_**“Allow me to see the injured, perhaps I may be of assistance.”** _

_**Weary glances met his, and Loki thought for a moment that the giants would refuse him. Soon though, an opening just large enough for Loki to squeeze through formed between the bulk of muscle. Wasting no time, the trickster shoved into the circle, thought process slower than he would have liked.** _

_**First thought- How is it so warm in this spot?** _

_**Second thought- Dear lord, it’s a child.** _

_**Indeed, when Loki went to take in the giant’s injuries, he instead found himself gaping at a small, blue boy. Crimson weaves danced across the boy’s torso, and Loki found himself gagging at the amount of bruises on the frail body. No child, even formed from monsters, should go through such torture.** _

_**Not wanting to further injure the young thing, the trickster set to work. Green magic tendrils delicately coated the child’s arms, wiping the bruises and cuts away as though they were never there. When he finally stopped his treatment, the monster child looked right as rain. And yet, something was still off…** _

_**The boy was gasping for breath, clutching viciously at his chest and attempting to breath. Blood splattered the once pure white christened snow; as it trickled down to form a small, crimson puddle. When the child coughed, more red exploded from his lungs, and Loki tried his magic again. No avail, it seemed that the boy had small slivers of metal lodged in his chest, too small for even Loki to fully get out.** _

_**Then the boy began to morph, changing shape and definition. Once blue skin, turned sun-kissed tan. Dark red orbs, bled away to enlightened hazel. Hair grew out in spurts of chocolate and oozed sown the sides of his face. Loki stared in wonder, and horror, at the face of his son.** _

_**His Tony.** _

__

* * *

 

Loki woke with a shriek, startling the now conscious lump next to him. Tony sat up in alarm; clutching his father and taking in the room, fear roving in his pupils. The trickster set a calming palm upon the boy’s back, and watched happily as relief crawled over his shoulders.

Three weeks, Tony had been his child. Three perfectly insane weeks.

Already, his son had blown up part of the west wing, tormented the peasants, and set three of the chambers maid on fire. Loki had never been so proud. Unfortunately, none of the lesser gods took well to Tony’s practical humor, and had told the All-Father of his disturbances. Odin had locked Tony in Loki’s bedrooms, until the boy grew out of his destructive nature.

_Doubtful,_ Loki thought, _Norns_ _know I never did._

However, Loki conceded to the will of the All-Father. His son, of course, didn’t take lightly to the idea of being locked up. After his seventh escape attempt had been thwarted, the boy took to moping around on the floor; boredom defined into his features. For days he sat there, unmoving except to eat and use the chamber pot. It wasn’t a few more days, that Tony relinquished his spot on the floor to sleep in bed with his father.

Now, as Loki gazed down at his beautiful toddler, he once again questioned himself. Was it the right move to bring Tony to Asgard? It seemed as though the only ones who truly wanted him there, were Thor, and Loki himself.

Oh, and of course Frigga.

His mother had practically jumped out of her seat when she found them wandering the halls one day. She had clung to Tony as though he were a long lost friend, and nearly smothered the boy. His son valiantly trying to wiggle his way out of the arms of death, but it was no use. Fragile as she may look, Frigga had all the strength of a goddess. Tony had spent the rest of the day cuddled into her side.

Loki chuckled fondly at the memory, a rich noise in the sea of black. He felt the bed shift beside him, as Tony’s puzzled face came into view. “I’m just thinking about the other day, my son.” Loki answered the unasked question, “When you met your grandmother.” He finished with an evil grin.

Tony’s nose crinkled at the memory, causing Loki to laugh even harder at his son’s expense. That was, however, before a soft projectile struck squarely on his nose. Loki blinked past the feather softness, to see his son standing next to the doorway with a mischievous smile slipping over his lips. Putting two and two together, Loki stared dumbfounded at the boy.

“Did you just throw a pillow at me?”

Tony stuck out his tongue, and dashed at of the bedroom, leaving a slightly dazed Loki sitting by himself. For a moment, he sat in the calming silence, before clutching the side of the cushion and running after the rambunctious boy.

In the living area, he gazed back and forth, watching for his prey. A small glimpse of brown told him exactly where to look. He stalked over, mindful of the rare and expensive collectables he had gained over the years.

“Well, I guess Tony isn’t here. I bet he’s hiding in the dining area.” He stomped the ground, lowing the dynamic sound for emphasis.

When the brown lock shifted again, Loki leaped forward. As he softly smacked the bolster over the boy, giggles erupted behind him. A second too long passed, before Loki realized his mistake.

That wasn’t his son. That was an extremely angry warg pup.

Trying to stay calm, Loki turned on his son for exclamation, “Why All-Fathers name, is there a wolf in our living room?”

His response didn’t appease his growing temper.

“Surprise!” Tony began running in front of the canine with his arms outstretched, “Uncle Thor brought it by to keep me company.”

_When I get my hands on that blonde,_ Loki thought ruefully, _I’ll ring his neck_.

“Tony, we are taking this mutt back, right now.” Where had Thor even gotten the pup?

“Oh, can we keep it, please, please, p-lease! I promise to take good care of it, daddy. I’ll take him for walks, change his newspapers… I’ll-I’ll feed him, and bathe him, and love him forever!” Tony grabbed the pup, which coincidentally, allowed the boy to lift it by the scruff and tuck it under his chin. Even having gone so far as to reach up and lick Tony’s chin. The boy squealed, and snuggled the pup closer to himself.

He was about to refuse again, when he thought that perhaps this was a good idea. With this pup guarding him, Loki could continue on his quests. He would be able to leave for stretches of time, without having to worry about if Anthony was all right. While it was a marvelous thought to simply take Tony with him, Loki knew it was too dangerous.

Visions of his dream flashed in his memory.

**_Tony lying on the ground, crippled in horrendous pain, and Loki having no way to save him. Hopelessness overwhelming his being as he chants in his head, take me instead, please, not my son-_ **

Loki cleared his head with a clean shake, staring into the wide brown depths of his son’s eyes.

“You may keep him,” When Tony whooped in joy, Loki lifted finger to silence him, “ If you take him with you, everywhere.”

Tony clutched the canine even harder, “Thanks, daddy!”

Loki hadn’t honestly expected the massive bear hug, as Tony leapt up into his father’s arms. Nevertheless, Loki clung to his son, almost as tightly as Tony clutched the warg.

“You will, however, be punished for your little stunt.”

Tony’s eyes grew wider, “I-I was only playing, daddy.”

Loki smirked, _easy._

“Punishment still must be rewarded to those who’ve earned it, Anthony,” He paused for dramatic effect, “I do believe that your grandmother has been needing a new sewing hand, care to assist her?”

 

* * *

 

 

Through the large city, and clear past the vast mountain terrain of Jotunheimr, an echoed word reverberated in sheer horror and complete terror. “ _NO!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You people are great. You make the stress of writing completely worth it, and suck away the issues that wear on my tired bones. Thank you for reading, though this is the last chapter I'm publishing today. More tomorrow, don't you worry!


	4. Chapter 3: Nostalgic Plastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds something he shouldn't have, chaos ensues.

Tony Age: 7

Once again, the mischievous prince found himself doing servant work. Or, more specifically, cleaning up after the little cretin living in his home. Bending over, he picked up another piece of gutted hardware. Normally, he would have just made it disappear, but do to the last few instances where the metal appeared at total random in a brutish warriors bed, Odin had forced Loki into doing the cleaning the conventional way.

Without any servants (too many having been shocked in the past), Loki found the task nearly impossible. What's worse, as soon as he has one section clean, Tony would come running in to destroy another piece of technology. While he still cared about his son more than anything else, Loki occasionally found himself putting blame in the child.

Turning, the god forced himself out of those thoughts. Tony was a mere infant, a child even by Midgard standards. If he had been born on Asgard, the elders would find him a genius for simply forming a coherent sentence at this age. Not that Asgardian children weren't intelligent, they simply had more time. The children of Earth had eighty years, a century if they're lucky.

A loud splat broke Loki out of his reverie. As he whipped around, the brief thought of _Damn it, Tony, not again!_ Played in his thoughts. Instead, panic swept over the prince, the mechanics in his arms momentarily forgotten. Shattered on the wooden floor, a broken glass of water formed magnificent shapes around two tiny feet. The owner of the appendages, however, paid them little mind. Large, wonder-filled orbs stared at something by the wall that Loki had thought he'd been disposed of already.

"Tony-" But it was too late, the boy had already seen it.

Twin feet clamored across the floor, ignoring the stinging pain of glass shards as he made his way over to the toy. Loki reached out to grab Tony away from it, and the pieces on the floor, but Tony shuffled it into his arms and took off running.

"Jarvis! Hey Jarv, look what I found!" Loki heard from the other room, followed by a howl of approval.

Loki made his way into the Dining Room, wary of the new clear hazard spread across his floor. _Just another thing to clean up_ , Loki grumbled in his head.

Damn, he knew he should have eradicated that disgusting knick-knack _years_ ago, right after Tony had been renewed. When the servants had asked him what he wanted done with the toy, he waved a hand and commanded them to hide it away. It just wouldn't do to have his son finding the doll right after and triggering something. After a few moments of frenzied movements, the hand maids thoroughly assured him

_Clearly, not hidden well enough_ , Loki thought to himself, _if a seven year old found it without even looking._

You just can't find good indentured slaves anymore.

_Pity._

"Tony, give me that back." Loki declared, entering the doorway of the Dining Room. Said child simply glared vividly at the figurines features, caught in a somewhat dreamy stare. He made to grab the toy, but his charge simply turned his back to him.

Finally Tony turned to his father, a large grin taking place of the contemplative smirk, "What is it, daddy?"

By this point, Loki had already gathered intel on the red, white and blue man, though he wasn't sure he should share the information with his son. Tony had already attempted a trip to the different realms several times, and while he usually avoided Midgard (thanks to a few well placed stories of savages and boredom) it was only a matter of time.

Although, he supposed, this little dollop of information couldn't truly impede the child's training. After all, the good Captain had been deceased for well over thirty years. True, several non-realists believed that he had survived the plane crash, but that would put the man in his fifties. Loki hardly believed that he had a threat from a fifty year old lab rat.

"It is a figurine of a great Midgardian warrior, a captain." Finally, he found the words to begin. He hadn't thought it to be that difficult, but it seemed

"A captain?"

Loki nodded, before realizing that Tony wasn't looking at him; eyes forever locked on the toy. "Aye." He finally answered.

Tony stared at the plastic, smudged face. "He's beautiful."

Loki chocked on a breath of air, and grasped his chest. He had certainly not expected _that_ from the boy. Wording his discomfort carefully, the mischief prince turned back to his protégé.

"What do you mean, Tony?" Loki questioned, hostile tension easing into his tone.

Tony, oblivious, answered happily, hugging the toy to his chest, "He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Did you say he was from Midgard? Oh! Is everyone from that planet this fabulous? Can we visit sometime?" Tony continued asking questions, not paying attention to the darkening face of his father.

Loki clenched his hands into fists, terror and fury causing his body to shiver with tremors.

_No. This is_ _**un** _ _acceptable. This simply will not do._

With unsalable resolution forming inside Loki's belly, he reached out a hand, and ripped the toy out of his son's hands. Tony stared up dumbfounded, trying to process what had just occurred. Blank faced, Loki turned and threw the knick-knack into a waste basket.

"W-Why did you…?" Tony questioned, large, brown orbs locked on the frothy green of his father's.

Loki returned to his son's side, "Anthony Lokison," Tony flinched at his full name, knowing the lecture to come, "What have I told you about Midgard?"

"Not to talk about it, but-" Loki interrupted.

"No buts, Tony. What do I have to do to get you to stop craving that worthless planet? Destroy it?" He hissed irritably.

With his head hung low, Tony reluctantly shook his head. Red, irritation formed around his eyes, as fat tear lines striped his chubby cheeks.

The anger surfing through the trickster's veins cooled instantly. It was so hard to forget that his son was simply an infant by Asgardian regards, and a child even by Midgardian standards. He was just so much more advanced compared to the other children his age.

Running a lithe hand over the still downcast head, he tipped Tony's chin up to make eye level. Except, Tony wasn't meeting his eye. The boy's eyes stuck to Loki's pale neck. A pout pulled the corners of lips down, two dimples making their presence known on his cheeks.

"Tony," He began, "I only wish to protect you. You are my son."

Tony didn't move a muscle, ears clearly blocking out Loki's words. Indifference was written across his features in plain text, obviously not caring for whatever his mentor had to say.

Loki sighed, "Tony."

Nothing.

"Tony, please look at me." He begged, moving his head around, attempting to make contact.

Nothing.

_Well,_ He smirked, _I did ask politely._

"Hmm.." Loki began, feigning contemplation with a hand on his chin, "I wonder if Mr. Tingles would have anything to say about this?"

Instantly shooting up, Tony eyed his father in shocked horror, "No…"

Loki menacingly lifted his sleeve, revealing his poised hand. He had picked up on the custom on Midgard, used to brighten up pouting children. While the petty mortals would simply twiddle their fingers in sensitive areas of the body, Loki had taken it a bit farther.

Tony began wiggling fervently, trying to escape from the torture that was inevitably about to commence.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the bones making up the tricksters hand morphed. Joints shifted downward, elongating the already lengthy appendages to a disturbing length. Three bumps formed on side, growing larger and longer, before bursting through the flesh, forming three more fingers. Skin pulled tight against the enlarged bone, and little coarse hairs began pushing out of the now leathery fingers. Between the area where the top knuckles joined, two beady, blood red eyes pierced through the dim room.

Tony stared muted, not in fear, but in complete fascination. Unlike most children, who would hide in fear at such a display, the young genius had always been completely enthralled in Loki's transformations. And even though he knew what was to come, he still stared awe-struck at the performance.

Using the boy's momentary absorption, Loki slid an arm securely around Tony's midsection. Undetected, he shoved the arachnid hand into the crease of Tony's neck.

Giggles spewed from Tony's gaping maw, thrashing around wildly, while at the same time trying to avoid the god's tickling, torturous digits.

"Daddy! St-Stop!" Tony managed to choke out between unstoppable squeals.

Loki chuckled, "Stop what, little one? _I'm_ not doing anything."

"Yes you, hee hee, _are._ "

"And what, pray tell, am I doing to you?" Faking his confusion, Loki pulled back the spider hand for a moment to allow his child a moment of breath. But only a moment.

"Daddy, don't do that!" Tony shrieked, throwing his hands up to cover his neck, like a soldier building a fort.

"I haven't the slightest clue what your telling me for, Mr. Tingles is the one responsible; not me." With a wicked grin, he shoved the spindly arachnids legs back against the sensitive part of Tony's throat, bypassing the boys _iron_ fort all together.

Shaking refutably, Tony gasped out, "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" The trickster asked, enthused on the boys reactions. Every time he preformed this ritual on Tony, the boy would almost instantly forget whatever they had been talking about. While sometimes Loki found it to be rather tedious, the tool turned the conversation in his favor nearly every time.

"Daddy, st-stop."

"Stop what, Anthony? You must be specific." He chastised, turning the brown, monster arachnid, to get at a more sensitive part of his neck.

"Stop tickling me-hee!" Chortles of giggles exploded from his small chest, pealing out in cracked spasms of laughter. Fighting spirit renewed, Tony twisted and writhed with a fiery passion. Catching onto what his son was trying to do, Loki loosened his tight grip of the boy. Gravity taking affect, Tony crashed to the floor.

Apathetic to the mass of confusion and limbs at his feet, Loki turned his hand back to its normal pale nature. He caught the whirlwind of Tony's triumphant smirk, and found himself grinning along with him.

"I did it!" Fisting the air with a bright enthusiasm, Tony cheered.

"Aye, it would seem that you have vanquished you arch-nemesis. My clever little genius." He sat himself on a previously overturned chair, Loki beckoned Tony to himself.

* * *

Tony all but leapt into his father's arms, cuddling into his familiar comforting scent. Pine trees encased in ice, with the smallest hint of lavender underneath the initial scent. This is where he loved to be, where he felt safest.

He knew he didn't fit in, that much has been clear to him for as long as he could remember. While the other children would have play pretend and have 'adventures', Tony always found himself holed up in his father's bedchambers. While yes, his peers would offer him a spot in their journeys, he would always decline. He much preferred working with metal and coding.

Besides, he didn't need friends. He already had his daddy, his uncle, and Jarvis, who needs anything else?

But there were times that he felt lonely. When all the other kids ran around outside having fun, and he would just close his eyes and wish, _wish_ with all he had, that he could be like them. He would pretend that schematics and detailed blueprints didn't constantly run through his head. Pretend that his only friend wasn't curled up asleep in his lap. Pretend that the elders of the castle didn't think he was a menace to society.

Pretend that he was a normal boy.

Then he'd open his eyes and continue with whatever machine he was working on, ignoring the small ache in his chest.

"Tony?" He gazed up at his father, his eyes still burning from when his earlier tantrum. Shame bubbled in his stomach, had he really put his father through all that for a simple toy?

_It looked so familiar…_

"You know that I do love you, my son. Don't you?" He nodded, of course he knew. They didn't just enjoy each other's company they needed each other. Without Loki… Tony didn't even want to think of what life without him.

"Yes, daddy." He cuddled his head closer into his father's warm body. Yes, he knew his father loved him, and he loved his father too. Even if he did invite Mr. Tingles out to play much to often.

* * *

He stuck his head around the corner, peering into the pitch-black darkness. His father had put him to bed hours ago, but he just couldn't leave this alone.

It just felt wrong to leave the toy in the trash.

Tony crept into the room silently, followed shortly by a small, brown wolf. A quiet yawn broke the indefinite silence, the pup's maw gaping from exhaustion.

Tony twisted around with a finger to his lips, "Stealth Mode, Jarvis." He shushed.

He made his way to the trash bin and reached inside, fishing out the red, white and blue figure from the bottom. He didn't know why he was so fascinated with the toy, or why his father didn't want him to have it; but it didn't hurt to keep the toy for safekeeping, did it?


	5. Chapter 4: Growing Up Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is lonely and goes wandering, kidnapping ensues.
> 
> Kind of like a season finale, this is a 3 part-er signifying the end of kid!Tony. After these three installments, I'm jumping to 17.

_**Chapter 4: Growing Up Part: I** _

_**Tony Age: 13** _

Tony gazed wearily out the large circular window above his fathers bed. Boredom had weighed heavily on his body all day, and had yet to relinquish his mind from its self induced fatigue. Whenever he was a child, everything had been so exciting and new! But now that he was somewhat older he couldn't help but think the opposite. Nothing ever changed, only occasionally rearranging. For instance: as of late the dwarves of Nidavellir. They had grown tired of the _unfair_ trade regulations of Asgard. Why should they have to pay for entrance, when other beings could simply enter?

He never understood it much himself, though his father explained that it had to do with politics and that he would understand in time.

_Father…_

He sighed, a sad expression drawing his eyes down. Father had been missing from the castle for several days. He and uncle had left before, hoping to calm the council of dwarves before war could be declared. Normally, the Asgardians would welcome the challenge, but the dwarves were known for their marvelous weapons. Should battling commence, Asgard may be victorious, but not without intense casualties. Not to mention, most likely the fight would be on the home front. Dear All-Father, that can't be allowed to happen.

Odin had said that his father and uncle would return at the very least, a month. Until then, Tony had _tried_ focusing on other things. Really, he tried as hard as he could. He attempted to learn more about their culture, and when that was finished, he began learning about the other realms.

After two hours of reading, he was too bored to continue. Who ever wrote those history books really seemed to favor the first level of power (Asgard, Vanahiem, and Alfheim). While it appeared he had a deep hatred for the third level (Hel, Niflhiem) and second level (Midgard, Nidavellir, Jotunheimr, Svartalfheim).

When he had tried to play with the other children, he found that while he had been growing, they had remained the same. Anything that would be acceptable for him to do now were still far to advanced for them. And when he decided to suck it up and ask anyway, they put him in the roll of the villain. He put up his hands and battled away the ruthless knight, vanquishing the vicious barbarian. When he had the other boy on the ground, the smaller of the two had become rose in the face. Soon enough, Tony had four other children shouting at him.

Tony had discovered that day that being the villain isn't a good thing.

It didn't mean he was stronger, or cleverer than the others.

It didn't mean he won.

It meant he was bad... Someone who hurts people.

Someone who didn't deserve others.

Someone… like him…

Tony stopped playing soon after.

He knew it wasn't true, his father had told him so. It wasn't true. It _**wasn't.**_ They were just confused, being how little they were. If he were a monster, than he would have been locked up. Right?

What if…. What if that was why father had left? Maybe he had grown tired of Tonys irritating presence. Logically, the genius knew how improbable the concept was. After all the times Loki had proven just how much he loved his son, it was nearly impossible.

The genius sighed out, standing from his perch. Whistling, he glanced around for his friend. His only friend.

Small thumps sounded in the hallway, beating in a spastic rhythm. Escalating, puffs of exhaustion spluttered from beyond the intricate oak door. Scratches bit at the bottom of the wood, soft whimpers penetrating the turbulent silence. Tony chuckled, opening it up and watching as a teen wolf sauntered in. Jarvis sent the genius a withering glare, large golden orbs filled with tight childish amusement.

"Don't give me that look, you know that the hallways are off-limits to us. Why were you even out there? Someone could have spotted you." The brown smudge growled slightly in response, bearing his nub teeth.

Tony rolled his eyes, a nasty habit he'd picked up from his time in court with his father. "Oh yeah. Beware, powerful gods, the dust mop is on the attack! What ever shall we do?" A huff of indignation met his words, followed shortly by a nudge to his leg.

He sighed, "No, Jarvis. I don't want to go outside." Another nudge, more forceful this time, complete with a whine for good measure.

"Look, I know you don't like being cooped up in here. Why don't you go bully the horses for awhile?" Jarvis resolutely laid down, his head resting next to the boy's toes. It was one of the ways his friend communicated, meaning _It's ok, its no fun alone anyway._ Or maybe that was just Tony's head plaguing him with guilt. Either way, he felt the sad need to help his friend enter his conscience once again.

"I…" Tony released a heavy sigh, pouring all his stubborn emotion into it. "I… guess we could leave. But only for a minute, I'm not in a very good mood." Jarvis yipped in glee, speeding ahead of Tony out of the main rooms.

Stepping out the door, Tony eyed the hall back and forth wearily. He wasn't stupid, far from it actually. According to all of the people who heard him speak, he was _very_ a talented boy. A genius mind, growing fast in a small body. Unfortunately, this also meant that Tony was very perceptive. He'd see every time an elder would glare at him from behind. He heard every single blasphemous curse whispered against his well-being. The fact that they all loathed his very existence, and thought he was too moronic to notice they're blunt hatred. They didn't like him wandering the halls.

_Ignorant fools._

Sneaking down the marble tile, he eased his way to the near the end of the hall.

It wasn't like he could simply _stop_ existing; he would if he could. With the constant air of detestation and animosity, he just couldn't breathe. Odium filling his windpipe and clogging his air passages.

Chocking him. Killing him. And he. Just. Can't. Breathe.

_**Ding dong.** _

Tony jumped at the sudden noise. Fear of being caught caused the genius to leap behind an old, but well dusted, grandfather clock. He peered out from behind the large timepiece listening for the dreaded footsteps to seal his fate. And yet… he heard nothing. Peeking out of his hiding spot, the genius stared at the void walkway.

_**Ding dong.** _

Vibrations from the clock rocked the young protégé, as he covered his ears to the vexatious sound. Oh… Well, now he feels like a dolt.

_No wonder the other gods think me vacuous._

Awkwardly shifting out of his space behind the clock, solid stillness greeted him in turn. Frivolous delight flooded his core, an ample grin streaking his mischievous face.

_Too easy._

Sliding up the embellished walls towards his goal, Tony smirked in satisfaction. He could practically see the brilliant glow of the Asgardian sunset, taste the salt-enlaced, warming breeze.

With his destination in mind, Tony didn't notice the other wayward traveller coming up from behind him. So enthralled in his chance for a moment of freedom, his strangely missing companion had slipped his mind. In fact, the young enervator wouldn't have taken heed at all, had it not been for the near silent _click_ ing of high heels. At first, he hadn't been sure that it wasn't simply his imagination. However, after every third _clink_ , the stiletto would give a small _screech_ , as though whispering to the marble below.

Knowing the dangers one endures when confronting a stranger, Tony wisely chose to take a left. If he could just make it down this hall and to the right, he would arrive in his grandmother's needlework room. True, he absolutely abhorred that room, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

_Click._

Hearing the clacks from behind up in tempo, the genius found himself beginning to jog. What once was a simple pin-prick of paranoia, had escalated to a deep, dark, fear. Terror racked his brain, urges to run bursting forth from his inner psyche. A small voice inside of his head –that sounded kind of like Loki- forbade it.

' _A prince walks pristinely and with purpose, Anthony. We may be gods, but we must still show a little decency.'_ Because of course he'll want to start obeying his father **right now.** He couldn't just wait until, maybe, tomorrow to start listening. No, obey the rules when there's a bizarre woman chasing him. Gods, he has to stop listening to his parent.

_Click._

_Click. Click._

_Click. Click. Click._

Oh All-Father, she's getting closer. She's almost here and there's nothing he can do. The noise is louder than it was, as it appears that she doesn't care is she's caught. And while he knows that his father will detest him for it, he has no other choice.

Giving up on the _ideal_ child ruse, Tony breaks into a run; swiftly leaving the stranger behind. While the genius may not have brawn, he certainly made up for it in his quick mind and reflexes.

The clicking continued, before suddenly…

Everything was placid once again. Calm. Quiet.

Too quiet.

Tony turned around, only to find the woman gone. Along with…

"Jarvis?" He called weakly, waiting for the bombardment of licks and nuzzles. But nothing came.

"Jarvis? Buddy, where are you?" Knowing this was perhaps the most idiotic idea he'd ever had, Tony headed back in the direction he had just come from. Nothing soothed his troubled ego, as he tried to think of reasons someone would take his pup. Ransom was a reasonable assumption, considering how much the royal family owns.

' _Doesn't pay ransoms.'_ Whined an echo in his ear, which Tony chose to ignore for the time being. No use in listening to a daft whisper.

_Money, everyone is after currency now a days._

_Or maybe it's just a prank to scare me back into my room._

"Or, perhaps, it's none of the above." A saccharine sweet voice sung behind him. Tony swung around, gaping at the magnificent goddess before him. With golden locks swirling around her head like a halo, and verdant green irises, she reminded him of his father. Only… as a girl.

The frivolous goddess leered down at the child, "Have you relation to the great prince Thor Odinson?" The question hung in the air, adding tension to Tony's taut form. While a part of him demanded he form a lie to swindle his way out of trouble, the wave of adamant truth swept through his very soul. Truth be told, he wasn't particularly sure that he _could_ lie, even if he wanted to.

Evidently, his silence was all the woman needed in conformation. A shark-like smile slithered on to her lips, her eyes creasing in a malicious leer.

Dizziness erupted around him, vertiginous taking over his entire body. His feet swept the ground, tagging back and forth between the far walls. Dark spots dotted his vision, a massive headache breaking out of his skull. Tony fisted the ground, vaguely being brought back by a high-pitched wail in the background. Who was that? He could punch them right now.

It had not occurred to him that it might be himself.

Tony fisted the ground –when had he fallen?- squeezing his eyes closed to end the blaring lights being forced unto him. His appendages felt cold, while his head burned with a flare of pain.

Thunder boomed around the palace, before darkness won out against the boy's will.

* * *

Loki sat on the edge of his bed, hair frizzled from constantly running his fingers through it. His hands were clasped tightly around a pillow. Tony's pillow.

Two weeks. He had left Tony for **two weeks**.

And now his son was gone.

_Gone._

It was his fault.

Tony had asked to accompany himself and Thor on their quest, and he had denied him.

_Gone._ _**Gone. GONE.** _

"Loki?" With a creak of the door, his brother entered the room.

"He's gone…" Loki whispered into the cushion, holding it closer to his chest.

A dip in the bed was his only warning, before two large beefy arms wound their way over his shoulders. Collapsing over the filling bask of emotion he'd been holding in, he allowed himself to be held tightly to his brother. Tears streaked his cheeks, dripping from the tip of his nose to the armor Thor was still dressed in.

"We will find him, Loki," Pulling back to gaze into his brothers twinkling azure eyes, confidence shining as deep as the blue they were set upon, "We will find him, and we will never let him go again."

And for once, the trickster believed in the impossible.

They **would** find Tony.

Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know my skipping ahead is annoying, but I want to start on Thor, so I can move on to Iron Man, Iron Man 2, Avengers, and (soon enough) Iron Man 3. That is five separate sections, not to mention the rare chance that this story is still going on through to Thor: The Dark Worlds. God have mercy on my brain.


	6. Chapter 4 2/3: Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up in a strange hovel, Loki is going insane, and Thor is regretful.

 

**_Chapter 4.2: Growing Up Part: 2_ **

****

**_Last time on Tony Lokison…_ **

****

_"He's gone…" Loki whispered into the cushion, holding it closer to his chest._

_A dip in the bed was his only warning, before two large beefy arms wound their way over his shoulders. Collapsing over the filling bask of emotion he'd been holding in, he allowed himself to be held tightly to his brother. Tears streaked his cheeks, dripping from the tip of his nose to the armor Thor was still dressed in._

_"We will find him, Loki," Pulling back to gaze into his brothers twinkling azure eyes, confidence shining as deep as the blue they were set upon, "We will find him, and we will never let him go again."_

_And for once, the trickster believed in the impossible._

_They **would** find Tony._

_Soon._

* * *

* * *

 

****

****

The first thing he noticed when he regained consciousness, was that this weren’t his chambers. Father wasn’t sitting by his bed with an irritated look on his face, questioning why the genius couldn’t get up on time like everyone else.

 

In fact Father wasn’t even in the room, no one was.

 

_Strange…_

 

A chill rattled his small body, as his hands roamed the stone floor below him. Darkness blinded him from finding his bed in this twisted version of a bedroom

 

Crawling across the ground, he roved the surroundings for a light of some sort, but was instead met with a rough terrain under his palm. It scraped the small digits and left tiny nicks and cuts along his still chubby fingers. Soil crusted in the crevasse of his nail, and an earthly scent clogged the air.

 

No… This was not his room.

 

So where was he?

 

Taken by the enemies of the crown, hidden away from the sight of even Heimdall? Impossible. No one but his own father had the power to…

 

_Oh All-Father._

 

That couldn’t be it, right? No, his father would not just leave him here. His dad loved him more than anything else, even if Tony was on his last nerve. He would never put him in the ground to die slowly from asphyxiation. But then how did he end up here?

 

“I think I can answer that one, young prince.”

 

Tony turned his sightless gaze towards to corner of the room, even though he knew it was pointless. There was no way he would be able to look at his intruding company in this black abyss.

 

“Who’s there?” A crack betrayed the tough exterior the genius had hoped to portray. But, was it really his fault? Tony had always hated the dark, and being encompassed in it now was not helping him overcome it.

 

Malign laughter met his words, as soft, barely-there footsteps echoed quietly in his prison. Suddenly, a dainty hand appeared from behind his back. Smooth skin dragged across his rough, greasy curls, pulling from the top of his skull, to the base of his neck. While normally this motion would be soothing to him, the hand providing the comfort was all wrong.

 

He wanted his father; he didn’t want this fake endearment. He wanted Loki to be caressing him, not this creepy lady.

 

Before he could explain his feeling to the woman, she began speaking again.

 

“You are precious, my tiny one. I cannot wait for when Thor arrives to collect you. Then your father will realize his mistake in denouncing my love of him, and we can all become a wonderful family. Won’t that be nice?” She paused in her ministration, glancing down at the protégé currently caught in her claws.

 

Tony froze for a moment, confusion eating at his thoughts. What does his uncle have anything to do with him? True, he and Thor were very close, but Tony highly doubted that his father would simply allow them to adopt him. And even if he was fine with it, Tony doesn’t think he, himself, would want that. While this female had yet to harm him, that didn’t really mean anything in the long run.

 

Opening his mouth to alert her of this, Tony turned to face his new companion. Gold bled into his memories, tearing at what he’d come to know.

 

This woman- no, this monster took him. Took him away from his home. Took him away from his family. Took him away from Loki.

 

From everything.

 

_Why?_

 

Shoving her hands as far away from him as possible, Tony threw himself into the far wall. Rock and debris rained down from the ceiling, cluttering the already thick air in dirt. He choked on the particles catching in his lungs, rapping his chest with both tight fists.

 

It would prove to be useless.

 

Sinking to one knee, Tony began coughing with all his might. Fighting the dust out of his body was proving to be a vein effort.

 

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Thunder booms from above, and the blonde beauty giggles to herself. Tony can’t help but wonder why? Usually, when people hurt a member of their family, Thor becomes very angry with the culprit. Why would someone be happy to have evoked the rage of the, normally kind, thunder prince? While it made little sense to Tony, he accepted it. This woman had yet to prove that she wasn’t off her rocker, so it was understandable that she might be missing a few marbles.

 

_Or, well, **all** of her marbles._

 

“I think we have a guest, wouldn’t you say? I’ll see you in a moment, my little one.” A sizzle lingers in the air even after Tony could no longer hear her breathing.

 

Tony wheezed in the gritty air, his throat drained of any cooling moisture and replaced with searing sand. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of water right now. The poisoned oxygen was clawing away at his insides, frying his innards again and again, over and over.

 

Wash.

 

Rinse.

 

Repeat.

 

Until he could no longer take any in, and passed out.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Beautiful light grew from the night, eating away the stars in the sky and claiming them in morning. Animals sang in the dawn, as though the sallow deity in the heavens could forgive their omission sins. Every creature inhabiting the nine realms praised Odin for the new day, shrieking in the various tongues in his name.

 

Except for Loki.

 

He paced the trail of insanity he’d formed into the Earth, unbridled anger etched deep into the lines of his face. Anthony was missing, gone, taken, from him, and the imbeciles he was forced to associate with had no bloody clue as to where he could have gone. No one had an inkling of thought as to who could have stolen a royal prince’s heir. What’s worse, Loki had been dismissed, dismissed, when he suggested using Heimdall’s magnificent gift.

Apparently, protecting the Bifrost was more important than finding his ‘stolen relic’, as expressed by the Warriors Three. He wouldn’t be shocked if those blunders had something to do with this misgiving, and if they did…

 

Massacres would be nothing compared to the ultimate destruction that would befall them. Loki would be sure of that.

 

A loud eruption sounded behind his head, close enough to kill a normal man. The mischief prince started, eyes wide at the damage coated in a lingering green. Bits of twisted metal scattered across the marble, catching in various crevasses on the tile.

 

Calming himself quickly, he guided his thought in a different direction. Growing enraged now would be futile, only inconveniencing them further. Again, Loki tried to locate the link tying him to Tony, and again it returned blank. Either the kidnapper had power in magic, or (and Loki really hoped it wasn’t this) Tony didn’t want to be found.

 

_Or he’s already gone._

 

The trickster banished that idea completely, locking it in the darker recesses of his mind. No, Tony was alive. Lonely, sad and maybe hurt, but still breathing.

 

He would know if his son were gone, he would feel the anguish consume whatever was left of his soul, pitting him with the other misguided demons plaguing shadowed corpses. He would know, as soon as the last breath ripped out of his son’s throat, taking with it the life he cared for on to better places, leaving Loki to wallow in the remains. Leaving him to squander his very heart to the black rustic powers to bring his child back.

 

 He would do it now, Loki knew, if it brought back the only happiness endeared into his long, troublesome, life. Crushing pain wormed its way into his chest cavity, as a voice whispered close to his ear.

 

What if he never comes back? What if this is fates way of punishing you for your crimes?

 

No…No.

 

The Norns wouldn’t punish a child, not for the sins of the father. Not for the misguided deeds with which Loki has tarnished his innocence like a white sheet stained crimson. They wouldn’t claim Tony responsible for the horrid faults of a trickster, corrupt a life so youthful for an error he had not consigned.

 

Slamming sounds drew the young prince out of his thoughts, though they remained as echoed monotones pleading for a piece of his sanity. Thor glared at the floor by Loki’s feet, fists clenched and twitching in fiery passion. He didn’t need to say anything; the younger already knew what neither wanted to admit.

 

No one would help them.

 

_No one._

 

They were on their own, like always. Odin wouldn’t even take a brief moment to glance the universe for Loki’s heart. He had the audacity to breathe and continue to love while his son was breaking from the inside out. How is he suppose to find the joy that would glue his heart back together when no one else seemed to an ounce of care? If they didn’t find him, Tony would be gone forever. Locked in a cage of sorrow, singing the songs of freedom in the form of dying wails. Be gutted in loneliness and driven mad in corruption.

 

No. _No. **No**_ **.**

 

It would not happen, not while he was still breathing. They would find his light, before it could be stolen to the darkness. He would find him, and never let him go again. Trample the connections between the royal families and him and leave. Whisk his son to a place where no one would find them, cut any ties he has with the outside world and teach him alone. While Loki would miss his mother, he knew this was the only way. For as long as Tony is a royal prince, people will continually try to rip away the only thing that made Loki joyful. They would always try to blind his young child in the black despaired destruction that had constantly followed the trickster since he was a babe. An arsenal of lies, tearing apart the truth, on a never-ending battleground. And it would not stop, not until Loki did something about it.

 

Pitiful sighs seemed blared in the constant silence, like a log falling in an empty forest. Thor lifted his face for a moment, opening his mouth several times, before resolutely looking down in shame, once again.

 

No, it didn’t need to be said. Loki had already known that he would fail.

 

And yet, the knowledge still managed to wound him. Burning like fire down his throat and spitting back up in boiling venom, it finally settled in a choking hold.

 

“Father has ordered that the kingdom to keep a weary eye for… the boy,” While the thunder god would never admit it, Loki knew that he cared for Tony almost like a son. They had grown on each other, even though they had so little in common. The trickster had caught the way his brother would constantly keep an eye on Tony when in front of Odin.

 

“But…?” He calm façade broke with a crack, one that he had hoped his brother hadn’t heard.

 

Of course, he had. Loki once again found himself shoved in the massive cleft between the elder’s pectorals. A meaty hand catches the back of the trickster’s neck, dragging him into the warm body attached.

 

“Do not fret brother, we shall find this thief and bring them to justice. The child,” Loki interrupted his brother, forcing distance between them. He glared into the azure seas of the thunder god’s eyes, poised for an onslaught of vicious contempt.

 

“Tony, Thor. His name is Tony,” turning his back on his unfortunate prey, Loki continued, “you may as well say it. He deserves to be treated like a living being and not a… _"_

 

Finishing was unnecessary, the point already budding into a flower of truth.

 

Tony was not dead.

 

He was _not_.

 

“Do we know who did the deed?” Tilting his head ever so slightly, the golden son peered into his gaze.

 

Thor spoke slowly, checking his worded tale in his mind before telling it. “Even the elders who saw the taking have not come forward with an image to work from. Father fears this tragedy may be futile, brother.”

 

His knees felt weak, as though they were going to crumble beneath the weight of this confession. If Odin had said that, then he must have checked for Tony’s location on Hlidskialf, or he would never give his favored son such a false hope to believe in. Truly, there was no way to locate the boy in all the nine?

 

_Who had that much power?_

 

Very few would have the sheer ability to hide from the watchful gaze of the All-Father. In order to absorb enough energy to vanish from even ever-sight was immense, more so than almost any sorcerer had the talent to gather. From the vast knowledge Loki had gathered over the years, he couldn’t think of another magic user other than himself who would manage the deed. Well, other than…

_Oh._

_Oh Odin._

 

“Amora…” Loki rasped, raw emotion dawning on his face. Thor gazed deeply into his eyes, confusion evident in his pupils.

 

“Brother? What did you say-?”

 

“ ** _Amora._** ” The shout ripped from his throat before he’d even realized he opened his mouth. Putrid animosity rose and began flaming the once lonely lump residing in his heart.

 

“No… No!” Rage laced deeply in the golden son’s words, eyes flashing with a bloody vengeance, “that wretched wench! How dare she steal a royal prince? She has taken it too far this time, brother.”

 

“Aye. But, my question is, why? And how do we find him now? If Amora truly is the culprit, then she will likely hide him away from us.” Both fair questions, though the fact that he couldn’t answer either of them didn’t make Loki feel particularly enthusiastic.

 

A stumped expression muddled his face briefly, the thunder prince sticking out his lower lip in a concentrative pout. Again, the trickster found himself comparing his brother to a lost puppy…

 

_** PUPPY! ** _

 

“That’s it!” Loki exclaimed, swiftly turning and heading out of the marble gateway, passing the two armored guards and darting down the hall. There was no time to waste; he had to find that little mutt as soon as possible. If he finds the pup, then he finds the boy.

 

_His son._

 

Amora had the full vengeance of the greatest sorcerer on her blood-coated hands. Odin have mercy on her soul.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Thor had no idea what to think anymore. First he had dealt with Frigga, who was completely broken hearted to hear what had fallen upon her grandson, now he must deal with Amora. For the first time in his long life, the great prince felt old. His shoulders ached from carrying his woes, heart weary from years past. Constrictive needles befell the nerves of his flesh, numbing his body in jaded wear. He would fear the appearance of wrinkles and gray hair, had it not been for his known age; a conversation topic his Father had a fondness for bringing up.

 

He was still an adolescent, no matter how hard he tried to prove himself worthy.

 

_A boy, not yet a man._

 

Sighs rocked his torso, tensed shoulders readjusting the unused muscles in a symphonic pop. He sucked oxygen deeply into his nose, breathing the stress out of his overexerted body. Groans broke from behind his teeth, guttural sounds that rocked his core. Perspiration formed steadily on his thick brow, a normally easy to forget annoyance, now magnified. Heels clicked down the hall after his brother, worry pinching his expression.

 

When he had last seen him, Loki appeared horrifyingly deranged. His normally striking green eyes were dull and void of any feeling. He appeared completely blank. Vacant. Vacuous.

 

_Hollow._

 

Sharp canines bit into the side of his cheek, iron blending with the other pungent tastes on his tongue.

 

This situation seems a little too sordid to Thor. What are the chances that the boy just so happened to be seized during the last few weeks? News of Asgard’s involvement with Nidavellir had not been public knowledge. Some would call the thunder god arrogant, but Thor was no fool. It was obvious the amount of disdain and animosity members of the elders held for the young genius. It was a shock that the tiny engineer had not been rotted by the depravation of caring.

 

Considering how much loathing the boy had to live through every day of his life, it was a wonder how he had lasted this long. With the constant all-consuming hatred bearing at him from both sides, the blonde wondered how the boy still smiled. How he still braved the world each and every day, knowing that those who couldn’t understand would bring him down. Didn’t know the swelling loneliness that must fill him when he sees the shark-like grins, feels the burning of a glare follow him everywhere.

 

They would _never_ understand.

 

While he himself didn’t know the specific pain his nephew endured, he could guess. His brother had gone through the same ordeal when they were children. People he considered friends forced him to choose between them and his brother, and although he occasionally chose Loki, Thor was ashamed to admit that he had left his brother sitting alone in the library more than once. He would ignore the faded cries echoing behind his back, leaving the sobbing songbird to weep an ambience.

 

That was in the past, and Thor still regretted it everyday. It burdened his mind, and stuck in his chest. If he could go back and change his choices back then, he would in heartbeat. He had even asked his Father at one point, begging the All-Father to rewrite his mistake. Unfortunately, his almighty powers did not extend that far, and Thor was once again shrouded in his indecencies.

 

But not this time. No, this time, he would be there for his brother. He would do everything in his power to save the small boy who managed to fix everything the older god had broken.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Y’know, he was getting really tired of waking up like this.

 

Heavy eyelids broke the dragging need to sleep, opening with only his sheer will. Tiny-clouded grim reapers danced around him, preforming their black magic on the living. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t find it in himself. His felt at though it was bleeding acid, bombarded spiked balls rolling up and down his neck. His tunnel vision began to fade again, and fear took over Tony’s mind. He can’t go to sleep now he isn’t ready to die. He hasn’t said his good-byes yet, given his farewells to those who would care if he were gone.

 

_Grandma Frigga._

_Grandpa Odin._

_Uncle Thor._

_Loki._

_Loki._

_Loki…_

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Out of all the things Eitri thought he would find today, this was perhaps the least likely.

 

His brothers had been digging out new tunnels in search of uru when they happened upon the strangest being. A mortal, in Asgardian attire. How peculiar...

 

The dwarven blacksmiths all huddled in a circle around the queer, unconscious little boy. He must truly have a gift to be seen as worthy among those who proclaim themselves gods. He could prove to be useful, after he woke up that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dum, dum DUM! Just kidding, next chapter will be the big battle and return of Anthony Lokison. Until then, goodbye. 
> 
> BTW: Thank you to all those of you who have reviewed, it means alot! Constructive criticism is appreciated! Also, I won't be updating until after Easter, so sorry for leaving you with a bit of a cliff hanger. Happy Easter!


End file.
